


It's Getting Hot In Here

by LondonGypsy



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Benedict at the F1 track, Benedict's a tease, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Light Bondage, Lots of it, MalaysiaBatch, One Night Stands, Sexual Tension, Sexy Times, being all hot and bothered, bow ties are naughty little things, the fun one can have with it, very very light but better safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benedict meets the OFC at the F1 tracks in Malaysia.<br/>She watches him, he notices - fun ensues.<br/>(One day I'll get better at summaries, promised)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Getting Hot In Here

**Author's Note:**

> I have to give a huge thank you to @Ota_Bobby on Twitter - she saved this one.  
> I started this quickly after those Malaysia pictures appeared: Benedict, all hot, scruffy and sweaty - he's just the best inspiration. And then I got stuck - writer's block.  
> But I remembered a convo we had in London, a scenario she wanted to have written but never found (and she didn't have the time to write it herself) So I went and asked if I may use that idea for this one.  
> She graciously allowed me to use it and even gave me a few more ideas (the bow-tie is thanks to her, and it was the one thing that kicked the Muse loose again).  
> Of course I let her read it first, worried whether or not it would do justice to her idea.  
> Thankfully she loved it.  
> And here it is, all nicely wrapped up in a bow (hehe).  
> Thank you darlin, couldn't have done it without you! 
> 
> As always Barawen for the Britpick/grammar check. (I've changed a few bits after that so any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone)

Time stops for a long moment when he walks in, making people gasp in shocked delight. 

We've been told he'd be here for the weekend but actually seeing him wander into the room, a soft smile on his full lips as he nods his hello to a few people, seems kind of surreal. 

"It's him, isn't it?"

"Hm?" 

"That Sherlock guy. Damn, what's his name again? Something complicated." 

"Not complicated at all." 

"Pffft, way too long, that's what it is." 

"Not really." 

I can almost hear Sean roll his eyes but he doesn't say anything. 

I watch Benedict stroll around the room, all eager excitement and fascination. He's like a child, a kid in a toy store, wide eyed and drinking everything in with that concentrated attention he's known for. He's like a sponge, soaking up the buzz around him. 

"I've got to go. See you later?" 

I wave a dismissive hand in the general direction of my friend. 

"Yeah, sure, see ya." 

The annoyed huff barely reaches my ears before I more feel than see him leaving. 

All my attention is on Benedict. 

It feels strange to be this close to him, breathing the same air. 

Being a fan of his work - and the man himself - for a while now, doesn't make it easy to not stare at him. 

Thankfully I'm wearing my shades and can follow his slow meanderings around the room without giving myself away. 

He's providing quite the sight though and I hear the subdued buzzing of the women in the room. 

The tight white dress shirt reveals more than it conceals, clinging to his body like a second skin. The dreadful humidity in the air makes it quite the see through thing to wear but he doesn't seem to be bothered. 

Or just ignores it as he can't do anything about it anyway. 

The sleeves are rolled up, showing off his delicate wrists and a bit of pale skin. Sweat glistens on his forehead and in the hollow of his neck, and I'm pretty sure he's happy that his hair is quite short these days. 

I follow him with my eyes, watch him chat to several people, his dark voice reverberating through the room. As low as it is - I can't understand a word - it seems to fill up the entire space despite the loud noise. 

He's shaking hands as if he's getting awards for it, smiling that brilliant bright smile at everyone who crosses his path, listening attentively and talks animatedly to whoever stops by.

He seems to have the time of his life. 

After what seems like ages, having talked to every single soul in the room, people leave him be. He falls on a chair at one of the tables and his publicist hands him a bottle of water which he gratefully accepts. 

Downing half of its content in three longs drinks, he relaxes into his seat, his curious eyes still flicking around. 

They stop on me. 

Still feeling quite safe behind my sunglasses I keep watching him. But then he tilts his head to the side and raises an eyebrow at me. 

He cannot see that I'm watching him, can he? The glasses are pretty dark and the sun's streaming brightly in through the huge windows. 

And yet he keeps looking at me as if he was sitting right opposite of me. 

Casually I reach for my drink, tearing my gaze away from him. 

Out of the corner of my eyes I see him smirk and then stand. 

My heart starts beating a tad faster as he slowly crosses the room. 

"Is this seat taken?" he asks, that honey sweet voice rippling through me like a shock.  

"No." 

"May I?" 

I make an inviting gesture, quickly curling my hand around my drink again to hide the slight trembles in it. 

The chair moves and the faint scent of his aftershave wafts around me. 

_Jesus Christ._

"Are you wearing glasses? Indoors?" he asks after a while, sounding mildly curious. 

"Perfectly sound deduction," I say, biting back a nervous grin. 

He chuckles. 

"Touché."

He takes a sip of his water; I can feel him eyeing me. 

"And I thought only..." he stops, shaking his head, "nah, sorry, that was rude." 

I turn towards him, ignoring the sharp pang in my stomach as I look into those outstanding eyes. 

"Good thing you didn't say it then." 

It comes out sharper than expected and he flinches a bit before an apologetic smile spreads over his face. 

"I'm sorry. I might have had a drink too much today and haven't eaten anything at all." 

"And it's quite hot for a Brit over here too." 

I bite my lip, feeling a blush creep over my face. 

"Sorry, that wasn't polite either." 

He grins cheekily, extending his hand.

"Guess we're even then, Miss..." 

"Oh, Newton, Ivy Newton." 

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Benedict. But you already know that." 

Blushing a little I take his hand, shaking it.

His thumb is resting lightly against my pulse point and I pray that he doesn't feel how his touch affects me. 

As he lets go the smirk is still on his face. 

"Now then, Miss Ivy, tell me why you're wearing glasses indoors. Only to watch people?" 

My heart jumps; so he did notice that I was watching him. _Shit_. 

Playing it cool, I take another sip of my drink before I answer. 

"If you must know, I had a late night...or early, depending on how you look at it and I don't look my best." 

His gaze quickly scans over me before it returns to my face. 

"If this is you on a bad day, I'd love to see you at your best then," he murmurs, more to himself but I hear it and blush hard.

"Sorry?" I ask, trying to calm my hammering heart.

"Gosh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be with people today. Apparently I lost all my manners somewhere along the way." 

Now it's his turn to look flustered; his face turns even redder, bringing out the colour of his eyes. 

"What I meant to say is that you look quite..." he squirms a bit in his seat, searching for the word, "...good to me," he finishes lamely.

The scolded schoolboy look he gives me makes me laugh and he quickly joins in. 

"I apologise," he says once he's stopped chuckling, "I should go and find my people skills first before I further engage with humans." 

"If you find them, would you share?" I ask, "seems like I could use some as well." 

Something about this rather odd conversation eases the fact that I'm talking to the one man I admire and adore. 

He glances around and leans closer, and I can feel the heat permeating from his damp skin, smell another whiff of his scent; it's quite dizzying in its perfection.

"Only if you buy me a drink later." 

His eyes are twinkling and for a second I get lost in a sea of blue, green and grey. 

"Why would I do that?" 

He winks at me and stands.

"For wearing shades inside and staring at famous people." 

"I wasn't staring," I defend myself, ignoring the turmoil in my stomach. 

"Yes, you were," he replies, grabbing his water bottle, "tonight. 8pm sharp. At the bar. I'll have a whisky." 

With that said, he turns and walks away, vanishing through the doors. 

I keep staring at the spot where he disappeared. My mind is racing, my hands are sweaty and I'm pretty sure I haven't blinked for at least 5 minutes. 

That was the most surreal conversation I've ever had. 

I shake my head and pick up my glass, emptying it in one gulp. 

Just as I try to tell myself that I should have gotten more sleep than the one hour I've had and that this all was one vivid daydream, the man in question pops up next to me again. 

"And don't you dare wear those shades," he wheezes, turning on his heels and hurries outside again. 

 _And now you've lost it entirely_ , I think, staring after him. 

Excited whispers around me tear me out of my stupor and as I hazily look around the room, I find myself the centre of attention. 

People are looking at me with various kinds of expressions and suddenly I can imagine how he must feel every time. 

Blushing I get up and leave the room as fast as I dare to do without running. 

*

It's just after eight as I enter the ball room, instantly sighing in relief at the cool breeze that greets me. Internally praising the air condition I take a deep breath and slowly scan the room. 

It's the big welcome party and everybody is here. Huge chandeliers cast their lights on the elegantly dressed up men and women swarming the place. Beautifully decorated tables are placed around an already busy dance floor, loud music fills the room and makes the mirrors along the walls vibrate a little. 

Sean is nowhere to be seen but that's not really a surprise after the fight we had earlier. And to be honest, I felt rather relieved to not attend the party with him. I'm not his nanny, he's a grown man and if he wants to behave like he did, his choice. I'm just here because his sister talked him into bringing me, said he needed a PA for his time at the tracks. However, since we arrived, we were quarrelling over the smallest things, disagreeing on everything and this afternoon only showed me that he didn't really need me. 

Clearing my head of those thoughts, my eyes stray towards the bar, looking for that familiar mop of hair. 

I ignore the slight sting somewhere in the vicinity of my heart as I come up empty. It would have been too good to be true. 

Sighing I square my shoulders and head toward the bar for a drink; I need one after today. 

"Gin Tonic, please," I call over the noise as I eventually attract the attention of the bar tender. 

"And here I thought, you'd be a champagne girl." 

Benedict's deep baritone next to my ear shoots a jolt of shock through my body but I pull myself together as I turn towards him. 

"You thought wrong then." 

He leans casually against the counter, wearing a light grey summer suit, a white shirt underneath, a dark-grey bow-tie around his neck.

He looks absolutely dashing.

The ever present humidity makes his hair curl madly around his head even though he apparently tried to smooth it back. 

He hasn't shaved and the ginger scruff on his cheeks and his chin gives him a rougher look and at the same time makes him look younger than he is. 

“You're late,” he states, the corner of his mouth twitching a bit. 

"Didn't find your people skills then?" I ask sharply, trying to hide the fact that his presence leaves me rather breathless. 

The smile he gives me makes the slightly irritated skin around his eyes crinkle adorably.

"Nope, I reckon I lost them somewhere on the tracks. Couldn't get there today. But I shall look for them tomorrow." 

He waves the bar tender over and orders a whisky. Then he raises a questioning eyebrow at me. 

"What?" 

"Didn't you want to pay for that drink?" he asks, nodding his thanks towards the man behind the bar as he slides over the glass. 

I lean closer. 

"Didn't they tell you? The drinks are free tonight." 

His entire body is vibrating with mirth as his eyes widen in pretended shock.

"No, they didn't. Probably thought I wouldn't notice." 

"Well, you are a natural blond, aren't you?" 

He laughs out loud, the carefree sound of it making my toes curl in pleasure. 

"Not really but I guess that's close enough." 

He falls silent, his intense gaze sliding over me and an appreciative smirk lingers over his full lips. 

"Staring at people is considered rude, you know?" 

He nods contemplatively, taking a sip of his drink. 

"Yeah well, maybe you can lend me your shades..."

I glare at him.

"Shut up, you. I'm not wearing them now, am I?" 

"No, you're not. And if you don't mind me saying, you look much better without them." 

The amusement is suddenly wiped away, his eyes have gone darker and the intensity with which he's watching me makes me shudder. 

My stomach is filled with butterflies and my heart is pounding hard in my chest. 

"I don't mind," I murmur, clinging to my glass, willing the flush on my cheeks away. 

Silence falls between us; each of us watching the other one. I could drown in his gaze, fall into the depth of those blue and green and gold swirled eyes and lose myself completely. 

"What is the colour of your eyes?" I blurt out, not able to keep that question inside.

I slap a hand over my mouth. 

"Oh god, I am so sorry. But it’s bugged me for a while now. I mean, you have to have one colour in your passport. Or does it say 'the colour of the ocean after a storm'?" 

Apparently my mouth has totally disconnected from my brain and as soon as the words are out, I want the floor to open up and swallow me. 

I keep muttering apologies but his hand on my arm stops me. His long fingers close around my lower arm, squeezing gently. 

"It says blue but I like your description much better," he says lowly, never taking his eyes off of mine. 

His palm is warm against my skin, his fingertips unconsciously caressing my arm. His touch shoots a firework of sensation along my nerves, making my entire body tingle.

"What are yours then?" he asks, leaning closer, squinting a little. 

"My passport says brown," I whisper, helpless at his closeness. 

He shakes his head. 

"No, they're... golden. Like...whisky..." 

That comparison makes me smile but his intent expression sobers me up quickly. 

"Amber...like dark honey," he says, still staring into my eyes. 

He's so close I can smell him: aftershave, fresh and masculine, the distinctive scent of sun warmed skin underneath.

"Christ," I murmur, feeling dizzy and light headed. 

"Hm, no, Benedict," he deadpans but the tone is betraying the pun. His voice has dropped an octave and he's shifting closer to me, his hand on my arm sliding higher, his fingertips leaving a burning trail on my heated skin.

The air is crackling with tension, the music is only a faint buzz far away. Everything is that extraordinary man in front of me, so close I can count the freckles on his forehead. 

"Benedict, goodness, it's easier to shepherd a flock of sheep than to keep up with you. Come on, I want to introduce you to a few people." 

His publicist appears out of nowhere beside him, barely noticing me before she drags him away, constantly talking to him. 

Before he disappears out of my view, I catch his disappointed glance back to me. 

Then he is gone. 

I collapse against the counter, my knees catching up with the situation and wanting to give out. 

Of course Sean picks that exact minute to show up right next to me. 

"Hey Love, how's the evening going for you?" he asks, eyeing Benedict's untouched drink, "you gonna drink that?" 

I glare at him. I'm so not in the mood for his idiotic games. 

"Yes, I am. And you should go to bed, you're drunk." 

"'m a bit tipsy, I grant you that but 'm not drunk." 

"Yes, you are. But I'm not your mother, so do as you wish. Just don't come knocking at my door in the middle of the night if you lost your key or anything." 

Muttering curses he shoots me an angry look but eventually leaves me alone. 

"What an idiot," I murmur into my glass. 

"Who's an idiot?" 

"Just the stupid brother of my best friend," I reply with a smile on my face. 

I feel like one of those conditioned dogs, reacting instantly to that velvet dark voice. 

"People weren't that interesting to meet, I see," I say, turning towards him. 

Benedict grins down at me, his hair in disarray, his face red and shiny, the collar soaked with sweat.

Breathtakingly gorgeous.

"Not worth my time. Now then, where were we before we got interrupted so rudely?" he asks, picking up his drink and emptying it. 

"Uh..." 

Watching him knock back that drink, seeing that long throat of his work is quite distracting and I'm lost for words. 

He narrows his eyes at me and then slams the glass on the counter.

"Dancing," he proclaims and before I can say anything, he grabs my hand and pulls me along to the dance-floor. 

"No, wait, I can't dance," I protest, trying to free my hand. 

"Hush, everyone dances." 

Whirling around, his arms are around my waist, pressing me against his chest. 

As wonderful as that feels, I struggle against his grip and eventually he lets go, frowning at me. 

"No seriously, I cannot dance," I tell him, taking a step back. 

"You're kidding?" 

I shake my head, wringing my hands. 

"No, I've never learned it. The few attempts I made ended with stepped on toes and even a black eye." 

_God, how I hated it._

I can see how he bites back a grin, trying desperately not to laugh. 

Turning around, I want to flee but his hand on my shoulder stops me. 

"Hey," he says soothingly, still smiling, "don't go. I’ll show you. I’ll even risk a black eye but I've got it on pretty good authority that I'm an okay teacher." 

"No really, I can't." 

Apparently he hears the panic in my voice because he lets go. 

"Okay, okay, sorry, didn't mean to push you," he says. He casts a quick glance around. 

"Let's have another drink then?" 

I shake my head. 

"Nah, you go dancing, I know you want to," I say, winking at him. 

I can feel a pent up energy surging through his body and the way his foot taps in sync with the music is unmistakable. 

"I'll be right over there," I point at an empty table in the corner of the room, "watching you..." 

"Doing what you do best, huh? Fine but let me get you a drink first. What's your poison?" 

He takes my hand again, leading me over to the table and holds the chair for me. 

"Surprise me." 

"Certainly endeavouring to,” he rumbles, making me giggle madly at those words. 

He smirks, winks and vanishes only to appear what seems mere seconds later with two glasses. He sets them down and falls in the chair next to me. 

"What are we drinking to?" he asks, mischievously smiling at me. 

"Sarcasm?" 

He giggles and raises his glass. 

"Sounds legit to me." 

We clink our glasses and drink. 

"Off you go," I say after a few minutes of silence, waving towards the rapidly filling dance floor. 

"You sure I can leave you alone?" he asks, even as he's standing up. 

I roll my eyes. 

"I'm a big girl, I will survive." 

He's torn, I can see it on his face. 

On one hand he's basically bursting with energy, needing to let it out. On the other hand he wants to stay, wants to keep chatting with me. 

And I understand exactly why. Despite the fact that I obviously know who he is, we've just clicked - the playful banter we have, the delightful tension between us, the literal sparks flying back and forth. 

I don't want him to go. 

"I'll be watching. Now go. Show me your best moves." 

As soon as the words have left my mouth, I realise what I just said and he knows it too. 

His gaze sharpens, his pupils blow wide and he inhales sharply.

Without another word he turns and walks away, his hips swaying seductively with the rhythm of the music. 

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly feels dry. 

As he reaches the dance floor he elegantly turns around. His dark eyes immediately find mine and he holds my gaze as he starts moving. 

It's provocative and slow yet somehow still in sync with the loud beats. It's a challenge and a tease, only for me. 

Watching him dance, seeing him move so gracefully around the dance floor is the most sensual thing. It's sexy and sinful and heat rushes through my veins as I keep watching. 

I get lost in his hypnotic motions, letting my eyes roam over his long lean body, drinking in his every move.

Sweat's forming on his face despite the cool air in the room but it doesn't phase him. His eyes have left me; they're still open but hazy. He's losing himself in the music, dances like nobody's watching.

And yet I can still see the cheeky smile on his lips; he's still overly aware that I am watching.

When the music stops he frowns and does the same, clearly having troubles finding back to reality.

There's some static and then an announcement I don't understand through the blood loudly rushing in my ears. 

I see the frown deepen and he turns around, seemingly searching the room before he turns back to me. 

Slowly he comes over and my heart sinks at the expression in his face. 

"I'm sorry, I've got to go," he says a bit breathless, "apparently I'm not allowed to have fun tonight." 

"Guess that's what you get for being a tease," I reply shakily.

He looks down at me, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I am?" 

"Yes, you are." 

He grins darkly and leans down. 

"Then my job here is done," he whispers in my ear. 

I shiver as his warm breath ghosts over my skin. 

Straightening up again, his smile turns predatory and he casts a quick glance around. 

"Care to join me for a midnight drink later?" he asks. 

I raise an eyebrow at him. 

"What makes you think I'll be still awake by then?" 

He chuckles and slips a hand in his pocket. 

"Because I'll invite you." 

"I told you, the drinks are free." 

"Yes, down here. Upstairs though..." 

He doesn't finish the sentence, only looks at me, waiting. 

My heart is hammering so loud he must hear it. 

"Upstairs?" 

"Hm, in my rooms." 

"Oh, you have rooms? One's not enough for you?" 

He shrugs casually. 

"They're nice rooms." 

"I'd bet." 

I can almost feel the sizzling in the air which feels too thick to breathe. 

The sparks have become a fire and we both know it. 

Someone calls his name and he ducks his head. 

"Gotta dash," he says, "things to do, people to meet." 

With that he takes his hand out of his pocket. He leans down again and brushes a kiss over my cheek, setting my nerves on fire.

"Midnight," he murmurs, his fingers sliding over mine, pressing a small plastic card against my palm. 

Dazedly I watch him leave before I discreetly slip his key-card into my purse. 

*

My hands are shaking a bit as I slide the card in the door and open it just a few minutes before midnight. 

The room's dark and I fumble for the light switch. 

"Don't." 

A full on body shudder surges through me at the sound of that voice, deep and disembodied in the darkness. 

My arms fall to my sides.

"Come here." 

Another low growl that shuts my brain down. 

I take a few hesitant steps. My eyes slowly adjust and I can make out his shape against the big windows behind him. 

He stands in the middle of the room, his posture relaxed, hands in the pockets of his trousers.

"Stop there." 

I do. 

"I wasn't sure you'd come," he says, his voice closer now.

"I can't resist a free drink, you know," I reply calmly even though I'm anything but. 

He chuckles roughly; the sound of it makes my heart beat even faster. 

"So it's only the drinks that made you come up here?" 

He's circling me, I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. 

I shake my head. 

"Perhaps the company sounded nice as well," I murmur into the darkness. 

Another chuckle, behind me now. 

Suddenly warm fingertips brush over my back, barely there and yet my entire body is covered in goose-flesh at the touch. 

"Oh, I'm terrible company, haven't you noticed yet?" 

"Now that you mention it..." 

He laughs again, warm and dark, filling the equally warm air around us with its rumbling sound. 

I feel him behind me, feel his breath against my neck and yet I jump a bit as his fingers lower onto my shoulder. 

My breath catches and I have to bite back a whimper as he slides a fingertip over my skin. 

"It's warm tonight, isn't it?" he murmurs, his fingers never stop moving, gliding over my neck and into my hair, finding the clip that keeps my hair up. 

I make a humming agreeing sound, not daring to move. 

"Rather hot, I'd say." 

He releases the clip; I hear it clatter to the floor. His hands slip into my hair, combing gently through it, draping it over my shoulders. 

"Very hot indeed." 

His hands return to my shoulders, slowly wandering down my arms before they disappear completely. 

"Turn around." 

I do so with shaky knees.

Even though it's still dark I can make out his face, a pale oval looking down on me, eyes shimmering in the bit of light from outside. 

He takes a step back and then suddenly bows, holding out his hands to me as he straightens up again. 

"One dance?" 

His words take me by such surprise that I stumble back, almost losing my footing in my heels but his hands are around my waist instantly. 

"Oh, I see..." he snickers, pulling me closer to him, "better lose those damn heels." 

He steadies me as I kick off both shoes, sighing in relief as my bare soles sink down on the carpeted floor. 

"That's better," he mutters, tightening his grip around my midst and takes one of my hands in his. It seems tiny in his large palm. 

"Just follow my lead," he says as he starts moving slowly. 

I'm in too much of a shock and when he carefully takes a step forward, I just do the same. 

And promptly step on his foot. 

"Shit, sorry," I mutter, looking down at my dumb feet. 

He makes a disapproving sound and one finger lifts my chin so I have to look at him. 

Without my heels I'm at the exact height of his mouth, his full lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something. 

I freeze and so does he, his body tenses and he inhales sharply.

Exhaling slowly, his finger on my chin slips away and instead he carefully cups my face. His fingertips gently caressing my cheek while his thumb hovers just above my lips. 

When it finally touches skin, I moan, unable to control myself. My tongue flicks out, only for a second, tasting salty skin.

He shudders heavily.

"If you want to leave, then you have to do it now," he growls, his thumb stroking my lip, driving me insane with the hypnotic motions.

"Why would I want that?" I breathe, lids fluttering at the sensations his caress causes in me.

My entire body is taut as a string, vibrating under his touch. My legs feel like jelly and the only thing that still keeps me upright is his arm around me. 

"No bloody idea," he mumbles, leaning closer to me. 

With a low groan his hands slide in my hair, cradling my head closer. Our noses bump before his mouth finds mine, a soft sigh escaping him. 

I stop breathing for a second, the shock of his warm lips is too much. But just as he wants to pull back, my body reacts. Moaning I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him back down. 

He makes the most delicious sounds as I kiss him hard, little choked off noises that fuel the incredible need I've felt all day. 

His knees buckle a bit as I slip my tongue past his lips and when it meets his, the groan he lets out shoots a jolt of plain pure want through my veins. 

My fingers find their way into his hair, silky and warm. He presses closer to me, letting me feel his heated body, the unmistakable bulge in his trousers, making me whimper in despair.

He quickly takes control and deepens the kiss, letting me feel the hunger boiling under the surface. 

His mouth is demanding, his tongue slick and hot as it explores my mouth, licking deep inside. Low whines fill the air, and I can't tell which of us makes them. 

Pulling back a little, he nibbles on my lower lip, sucks it into his mouth before his tongue dives back, frantically searching mine to curl around it eagerly. 

My entire world is reduced to his lips, his tongue, his rumbling moans, eliciting a desperate longing in me which weakens my knees.

All I can do is cling to him and kiss him back just as feverish as he's kissing me. 

His hands leave my head, wandering aimlessly over my back, seemingly exploring every inch, chasing shivers down my spine in their wake. 

"I've been wanting to do this all day long," he pants as he breaks the kiss, both of us gasping for air. 

“Have you now?" 

My voice is croaky and feels foreign in my ears. 

"Hm yes, and there's so much more I want to do." 

I can't suppress the little whimper that breaks free at his hoarse words. 

"Is there?" 

Instead on an answer he kisses me again, reducing me to a quivering mess in his arms. 

"I wanna undress you," he whispers against my lips, rubbing his nose against mine, "slowly...just like this...in the dark." 

I whine loudly, pressing myself against him. 

A deep rumble vibrates through his body and it takes me a moment to realise that he's laughing softly. 

"I mean, I'd love to _see_ you, see you losing it because of me but..." 

"If you keep talking like this, you won't get any of it," I growl, pulling him back into a heated kiss. 

We're both panting as we break it, blindly staring at each other. 

"You're wearing far too many clothes," I murmur, trailing my fingers down the buttons on his shirt. 

"Wanna do something about that?" 

His voice has dropped so low, it's more a feeling than a sound – a rumble I feel down to the soles of my feet.

I smile. 

"I intend to." 

My wandering fingers find the button of his jacket and pop it open. 

He stands still, only his chest is heaving as I push it slowly off of his shoulders. 

I can barely see even though my eyes have fully adjusted; only a faint shimmer of white in front of me and a spot of dark around his neck. 

His bow-tie. 

 _Oh_.

I splay both hands over his chest, making him moan quietly but he doesn't move as I slide them up, relishing the feeling of flexing muscles under the damp fabric. 

It's quiet in the room beside our harsh breathing - it feels as if we're the only two people on this planet. 

When my wandering hands find the ends of his bow-tie, I look up, searching his eyes; they're only two shimmering spots in inky blackness. But I can see him raising his eyebrow as I gently tug at one end, loosening the knot. 

I hold my breath as I tug harder, making the soft fabric lose its shape; the silky sound is loud and delicate in the silence. 

Slowly I pull it off of his neck, dangling it between two fingers. 

He clears his throat and his voice is raspy when he asks: 

"Any ideas what to do with that?" 

I grin cheekily. 

"Many." 

He inhales sharply and I feel him shudder against my body. 

"But not now," I add, draping the piece of fabric around my own neck. 

He hums and before I can move, his clever fingers reach up and re-do the tie, chasing shivers through me when skin brushes against skin. 

"Suits you," he murmurs as he leans back a little, his finger lingering just below the bow-tie on my naked skin, "sexy..." 

I ignore it for the time being and slowly start to open the buttons on his shirt. They're tiny and escape my shaking fingers like fish under water. 

"Bloody buttons," I mutter, making him chuckle softly. 

"Need some help with those," he asks mockingly.  

"No, I can...oh fuck it." 

Too impatient to unbutton the damp fabric, I grab the lapels and pull hard. 

Benedict gasps surprised and I grin contently as I hear the tiny buttons rip from their places. 

"That was...unexpected," he murmurs, an impressed tinge to his tone. 

"I have many hidden talents." 

Reaching out, I lay my hands on his naked chest, sighing as I touch warm skin. Slowly I let them slide over the wide expanse of his torso, his hard ribs noticeably under my fingertips.

"You're too thin," I mumble, leaning forward to place kisses just below his neck. 

His arms close tightly around me and his head falls back as I keep kissing his chest. He whines lowly as I carefully bite one of his nipples, his hips jerking towards me. 

I do the same to the other one, earning another of those lovely little moans but he stops me as I want to continue.

"My turn," he growls, taking a step back, "don't move." 

I square my shoulders and stand still, feeling him circle me again. Every now and then he brushes a finger over my skin, arms, neck, shoulders. 

My skin is on fire wherever he touches me, prickling in anticipation of his next move. 

"That dress is gorgeous," he murmurs somewhere to my left, "but I think it's even prettier on the floor." 

One swift motion and the zip is open, his large hands pushing under the straps, removing them. The fabric swishes down and pools around my ankles, leaving me only in my panties as I haven't bothered with a bra tonight. 

He lets out a surprised 'oh' and runs a finger down my spine from neck to bottom, leaving a burning trail on my skin. 

Then he's pressing against my back, making me gasp at the sudden contact. His hands settle on my thighs, slowly sliding upward, over my stomach and further up.

I'm trembling heavily now, glad for his strong chest against me but as his hands cover my breasts, his hot palm pressing hard against my over-sensitive nipples, I cry out and almost collapse onto the floor. 

The tension is too much, my knees want to give out and I'm dizzy and close to hyperventilating. 

"Better take this to bed," he huffs into my ear, his tongue flicking over the shell of it, making me moan loudly. 

In one swift motion he lifts me up and carries me over to the bed, gently lowering me on the mattress. 

Hearing him move around I just lay there for a second, trying to calm my rapidly hammering heart. 

Then the mattress dips. 

"I think I'm still wearing too many clothes," he whispers roughly even though I can hear amusement in his tone. 

"And you want me to change that?" I ask. 

"That would be appreciated, yes. Unless..." 

I sit up, find him sitting on the edge of the bed, his shirt hanging open, a beam of light from outside painting a silver path over his face. 

For a moment I'm frozen, rendered helpless by this display of his exquisite beauty. 

It's the first time I can actually see his face since I've entered his room. 

The expression on his face it breathtaking: his eyes are huge, glued to my face. His sensual lips are parted, shimmering a bit wet, his cheekbones cast in shadows so they seem even sharper than usual. His hair is a complete mess and I feel a smile dance over my lips because that's my doing.

He tilts his head as he senses it and makes a questioning sound. 

I reach out, running a finger over the side of his face, the smile growing wider as his lids flutter shut and a gentle shudder wrecks his body. 

"You're so fucking beautiful and you don't even know it," I murmur, tangling my hand in his hair and pull him down. 

The dark whine he makes when our lips meet has me arch into him, searching the contact. 

Suddenly I can't take it any longer: the teasing, the dancing around each other is too much. 

"Off," I groan, pushing the shirt off of his shoulders, moaning at his smooth skin under my hands. 

He scoots to the edge of the bed, stands and opens the button and the fly of his trousers, pushing the fabric down.

He's gloriously naked under it. And hard. For me.

The small beam of light from outside is now illuminating his chest, heaving with arousal, his small waist even smaller due to the shadows around him. 

I feel his predatory gaze as he crawls back into bed, kneeling beside me, sliding a hand over my side until it stops just below my neck. 

"Do you trust me?" 

His voice is so deep it makes the air resonate with thunderous vibrations. 

"Yes." 

It comes out without hesitation. 

Carefully he loosens the bow-tie still around my neck, pulling it off, just like I did earlier. 

He takes my hands, guides them gently above my head, pressing them into the pillows. 

"Do you trust me?" he asks again, a rough intensity to his tone that has me arch from the bed. 

"Yes!" 

Leaning down he kisses me, filthy and quick, before he sits back up. He dangles the small piece of fabric from his long fingers, searching my face. I meet his gaze, holding it. 

A dangerous smile dances over his face as he bends over and pushes my wrists together, wrapping the bow-tie around it. 

"More?" 

I nod and he pulls my arms further up so he can also wrap the ends around the small post at the headboard. 

"Okay?"

I tug gently on it; it's not tight and I could unravel the knot easily. 

"Yes." 

He's still kneeling by my side, hands resting on his thighs, his gaze roaming over my naked body, up and down and I can almost feel it, heavy and greedy. 

"I've never met a woman like you," he muses, tilting his head, laying a hand on my stomach. 

The touch feels electric and I press into it, whining needy. 

"So eager...so beautiful," he mutters, his fingers slowly creeping lower to where I really want them. 

But then he stops and the noise I make is embarrassingly loud. 

"One last thing," he says soothingly, reaching for the night-stand and opens the drawer. 

I hear the distinctive sound of plastic ripped open and a sharp hiss as he rolls the condom on. 

Finally he turns back to me. 

He studies me for a second and then slowly moves down the bed, coming to sit at my feet. 

"You know," he says, sounding almost casual if it wasn't for the hitch in his breath as he closes his hands around my ankles, "I'm very inclined to switch on the lights to see you like this. Bound and at my mercy... shame really... guess I have to make do without it...for now." 

And he leans down and starts kissing and licking up my legs, nibbling at the sensitive skin at the inside, biting carefully and making me lose my mind. 

I'm writhing beneath his mouth, feeling vulnerable and strong at the same time. 

Being at his mercy like this, helpless, tied to the bed is the most arousing thing to ever happen to me. And yet: he's trembling as well, his hands shaky as they brush over my flesh, his breath shallow and quick.

Because of me.

Heat is rushing through my veins, every nerve is buzzing, the feeling of not knowing what he's going to do next is driving me crazy. 

I faintly notice that I'm babbling useless words, pleading and begging but I couldn't care less. 

His hair is tickling over my legs as he slowly works his way up, murmuring endearments against my flesh. His hands have settled around my hips, his thumbs pressing into my groin and yet he's still avoiding the throbbing centre of my desire. He keeps kissing around my sex, nuzzling the thin skin beside it, rubbing his stubble against it. 

The sensation of it is overwhelming and I desperately buck my hips up, urging him to just do it. 

"Lay still," he suddenly growls, a hint of steel in his tone that chases a bone crushing shudder through me. 

I comply, even though it's hard to keep my quivering limps still. 

"Good girl," he rumbles, his fingers digging deep into my hips as he lowers his head, his warm breath ghosting over wet flesh. 

I cry out in pleasure as his tongue slips between my folds, instantly finding that one spot that makes me squirm. He is maddeningly slowly swirling his tongue around it, humming from deep down his throat - the feeling of it utterly arousing. Useless curses fall from my lips as I dissolve under his lips, his tongue, his teeth, making me lose all ability to even think. 

It takes me a while to identify the harsh noises as his moans, resonating in my bones, adding to the fiery sensation he causes in me. 

My orgasm is rapidly approaching and I tug on my bonds, wanting to bury my hands in his silky hair, not sure whether I want to hold him back or push him down.

But then he stops, propping his chin on my hip, his breath coming in short pants. 

"What do you want?" 

I whimper as his words reach my ear; I've always loved his voice and the undisguised desire, the pure want I can hear, is made to make me lose it entirely. Quickly.

"You," I whine, "just you...please." 

"Then you shall get it," he says. 

I feel him pull back, his hands slide from my hips to my thighs, pushing them apart with force. 

Capturing my lips in a bruising kiss, he shifts closer, settling between my spread legs. Still kissing me hard, he relentlessly pushes inside me, making me scream against his mouth as his hot thickness fills me. He doesn't stop, pressing inside as far as possible and then stills. He's sweating, slick and burning against my own heated body. My bound fingers grasp for a hold, anything to get some leverage to arch into him but his weight is holding me down, pressing me into the mattress, the heady smell of his arousal surrounding me. 

A long moan falls from his lips as he pushes up on his arms, lifting his upper body enough so he can look into my face, pressing his lower body harder against - and in - to me. 

I can see his eyes now, wide and black and hungry, staring into mine. The wildness, the untamed passion lingering behind those beautiful features is almost enough to make me lose it. 

He makes a few shallow thrusts, as if to test me, test himself and my eyes close at their own account. I want to melt into him, becoming one with this extraordinary man. 

But his grunted command stops me.

"Oh no, you're not doing that. Open your eyes. You'll be watching me." 

With those words he starts pounding into me mercilessly, the muscles in his arms quivering against my shoulders. Soon sweat is dripping down his long limps, slicking the friction between us, making his rapid motions even quicker. 

I feel every thrust deep inside me and I arch against him, meeting him, trying to draw him even deeper. 

Loud groans fill the air, the obscene sound of flesh against flesh and it's music to my ears. 

He's moving smoothly, controlled even but I hear his breath quickening, feel his heart hammering. 

His eyes are still drilling into mine but his gaze is becoming more and more unfocused. With a sly smile I wrap my legs around his waist, my heels digging deep into his back, and he cries out hoarsely. It's the most beautiful noise.

I finally have some leverage, arching high up from the bed to meet his thrusts. 

Cursing incoherently, he slides his hands under my shoulders, pressing me harder against his sweaty chest, pounding into me with a force that takes my breath away. My wrists start hurting, the strain in this new position is a bit much but I can ignore the pain. 

He tilts his hips and suddenly there's friction where I need it.

Heat rushes through me, drowns out everything but him, and as he breathes my name, I fall apart, my orgasm washing over me in heavy waves, leaving me a shaking, panting mess underneath him. 

His forehead rests against mine, his eyes are still open and I return his look hazily, wanting to see him lose himself. 

"Let go," I whisper against his mouth, biting at his lower lip, "come for me, Benedict." 

He throws his head back and pumps his hips hard into me before he lets out a raw cry, his entire body is going rigid and then he collapses on top of me. 

While he is panting harshly, I tug on the bow-tie, loosening it and bury my slightly numb fingers in his sweat soaked hair. 

I feel him smile as I thread my hands through his curls, caress the nape of his neck, the short hair tickling my fingertips. He starts purring contently, warm huffs against my sweaty skin.

We lay there in silence for a moment before he rolls off of me. Cool air over my heated body makes me shiver; it feels heavenly. 

He plops next to me, stretched out over one half of the bed, fingertips grazing the top of my head, playing with strands of my hair. His face is hidden in shadows but I can see the blissful smile on his glistening lips.

I want to say something but I don't know what so I keep quiet. Blood is rushing back into my hands and I start rubbing them. It's going to bruise tomorrow and will remind me a while of this night. 

"Are you hurt?" he asks, having sensed the motion. He rolls on his side, reaching out to caress my arms. 

"Nah, it's okay." 

He tsks and gently pulls my wrists against his lips, kissing them carefully, his long fingers soothing the faint ache. 

I'm still in a bit of a daze: his hummed administrations, the darkness of the room, the warmth of his pliant body next to me, all this is lulling me in. 

The last thing I remember is a light duvet pulled over me and a whispered 'good night' in a soft baritone in my ear. 

*

I wake with a start, shooting up in bed, not knowing where I am. 

There's a muffled grumble right next to me and when I turn my head, the only thing I see is a mop of unruly curls. 

Instantly everything rushes back and with a smile I examine my wrists. 

As I predicted, there are small but visible bruises circling the flesh. 

A gentle reminder of a night I'd never imagined to happen.

It's still night although the sky outside the big windows has the tint of the very early morning. 

Carefully I slide out of bed, wrapping myself into the thin sheet and walk over to the window. 

The view is spectacular: high above everything else nothing disturbs the view over the blinking lights of the city. The airport is close by and if I listen closely I can hear the roar of the engines. 

It reminds me that I still need to pack.

I should get going, Sean's probably wondering where the hell I am. 

Sighing I turn away from the window and collect my dress from the floor, slipping in it. 

The crumpled bit of fabric on the pillow catches my attention and with a smile I pick it up. 

Benedict's bow-tie. 

"You're not going to miss it, are you?" I whisper into the quiet room, folding it and putting it into my purse. 

I cast one last look at the man in the bed; he's still sleeping, looking so much younger than he is and utterly vulnerable. Splayed out on his side of the bed, duvet tangled around his hips, one hand hanging out of the bed, he's the perfect picture of innocence.

Tousled auburn hair is framing his angelic face; the lines on his forehead and around his eyes are smoothed out by sleep. His long lashes fluttering as he dreams, casting fuzzy shadows over those angular cheekbones. The gentle light slowly filling the room gives him a soft golden glow, soothing the angry red of his sunburn into a warm complexion.

It hurts my heart to leave him but it's for the best. 

He's off to Australia in a bit and Sean's and my flight will take us to Bahrain tomorrow evening. 

We may cross paths in the future again but for now it's goodbye. 

Picking up my shoes I walk towards the door and slip out of the room, quietly closing the door behind me.  

 

 


End file.
